


Under the Waves of Gold

by 3minswriting



Series: Assorted Tales of Water and Scales [2]
Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Folklore, Inspired by Myth, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting
Summary: The story of the diver and the hawksbill turtle.
Relationships: Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Series: Assorted Tales of Water and Scales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083971
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Under the Waves of Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trustmeallnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeallnight/gifts).



> inspired by a jeju folklore tale.
> 
> for you, precious as any gift could be.

Dongho sees him for the first time when the tide is low.

The sun is dangling in the sky, golden cape spread across the receding ocean in a final crowning of glory before the moon arrives to eventually shepherd the dancing waves back towards rocky shores.

The light is low, but he’s careful when he walks. Always careful. Bare feet mold against the weathered curves of grey stone with each step, tanned toes wrinkled with seawater. They grip well enough, cling to slippery surfaces like the salt does to the breeze that ruffles through his hair.

Step. Slow. Easy.

A jump from one flattened boulder to another brings him to the rockpools. They’re exposed here, the raised stone parched from the footsteps of the summer sun, but Dongho’s feet are far more gentle, much more cautious, and he pads between the pockets with his white net swinging behind him like an excited puppy’s tail. Crouches down at a little crater, waits for the water’s surface to ripple.

It shifts from the seabreeze. Tiny anenomes in the rockpool wriggle their appendages, as though to tempt him closer.

Dongho keeps moving.

The next pool is more promising. A few crabs are gathered at the edge of a crater and a quick snap of his hand snares one. Two more stops and the tail at his hip is already crawling with furious claws reaching for freedom and each other. Their pincers nip at his faded blue trousers when they can, but Dongho ignores them when he turns around. He has to get back home. They’ll eat well tonight, like they do every night after the day’s work is done and Dongho can search the sea’s edge instead of swimming in the depths to pry shells from stone for a meagre profit.

That’s when he sees him:

A hawksbill turtle, trapped in the shallow crater of a rockpool.

He’s beautiful, of course, they always are. Whenever they’re in the ocean, swimming nearby, Dongho always takes a few seconds of precious held breath in his dive to admire them. They glide through water like seabirds in flight, flippers rotating in minute movements that propel them with an elegance that is breathtaking. This one is large, with gold hexagonal shell plates lined with a rim of green as though a forest growing around a buttercup. Stunning. A sight he has never seen before, and knows he might never again.

“How did you get here?” Dongho shakes his head.

He looks out to the glittering ocean waves, moving further still towards the disappearing sun.

“I have to get home.” He says, sighing. As he crouches, though, the air in his belly releases as a laugh, “`guess you do too.”

The stranded turtle is as graceless and fumbling as a human at sea. His mottled gold flippers splash droplets around himself in vain, the crest of his enormous shell speckled with water. He’s pitiful but determined, and Dongho can’t help it – he takes a few precious seconds of dying sunlight to admire him for it.

“Come on.” Dongho reaches out, keeps his hands where the large dark eyes can see him approach, and the turtle stills.

In his work as a diver, Dongho’s touched a lot of shells – pried stubborn abalone off rocks, mussels, barnacles from the underside of boats to help out a friend – and he’s sold them all, but never a turtle’s. All turtles are the sacred children of the Dragon King of the Ocean, and so Dongho cradles this heavy creature with all the awkward reverence of a peasant receiving a royal visitor.

Dongho’s arms strain with the effort to keep him level, keep his wrists away from the flippers, keep him comfortable, safe.

“You’re fine, you’re alright.” He repeats the words with each waddling step towards the glittering ocean. Soothing the creature as if it could understand. “Nearly there, nearly there.”

It’s only a few dozen metres from rockpool to the water’s edge, but Dongho is sweating by the time he eases the turtle into the blue.

“Get home safe.” He waves at the creature, smiling, eyes crescents like the moon that is sure to appear soon.

The turtle looks back in that moment; Dongho can see his dark eyes, the crane of his neck and the elegant curve of his beak that gives all his kind their namesake.

And then he’s gone, a gold shield disappearing under the waves.

Dongho stands there until the sun is gone and the trapped crabs tied to his belt pinch him out of his reverie.

Then he turns towards the shore and returns home.

-

He sees him again when the tide is high.

The sun is low, remnants of light reclining over the serpentine curves of restless blue waves. The moon will arrive soon to soothe the dangerous ocean, but also transform the rockpools from a safe haven to collect an evening meal into a thousand murky mouths hungry to swallow a hapless ankle and snap its bones.

Dongho is surefooted, careful. He jumps between rocks, calloused fingers gripping edges as he springs through the larger boulders to avoid the tide. When he reaches the rockpools, most are already covered by layers of waves. He picks his way to the shallow end closer to the shore cliffs.

Wades through the water, droplets staining the rolled up cuffs of his white sleeves and trousers when he snatches at a spiny lobster.

Laughs when he misses.

They’re fast, lobsters, just like crabs and they’re strong when cornered, but there’ll be more before the night comes. Dongho stays patient, stays careful. He watches for the encroaching waves. He looks over his shoulder, feels the sea spray hiss against his cheeks, soaking his hair with a fine dust of salt and water.

That’s when he sees him:

A prince wearing a _dopo_ of mottled gold and green, dark eyes staring out at the ocean.

He’s beautiful, of course, as spirits always are. His long sleeves flutter in the winds and the waves, yet the speckled silk gauze remains perfectly dry, threads glistening like a thousand stars in the waning light.

Dongho approaches. He takes a moment and admires his graceful form standing proud on land as though it is equally his domain as the water that laps at his gold slippers. Dongho’s heart beats faster in his chest and his movements are wary, fumbling, as though a beached turtle trapped in a tiny rockpool.

The waves are roaring, the wind is stronger.

Yet when Dongho speaks to him, he doesn’t raise his voice.

“How did you get here?”

The prince turns to him, and it’s that minute motion of his craned neck, with gentle eyes dark as the night sky, and elegant features of a sharp jaw and high cheekbones that makes Dongho feel as though he should look away, because why should a peasant who dives for shells garner the attention of royalty.

“When the tide is high, these pools are easy to reach.” His voice is warm, amused, and Dongho notices he ducks his head as though trying to attract his gaze back to his face. “I must return before the tide is low, before the palace gates close.”

Dongho doesn’t ask what happens if he doesn’t return; he knows. The same fate as a human who spends too long underwater without surfacing for air.

Instead, he looks out to the crashing waves. The water is cool around his ankles, soaks over the rockpools until the only land around that he can sense is what is under his bare feet. A stray flicker of gold silk tickles his arm, but he can’t yet convince himself to look yet.

“Do you need any help?” Dongho asks, “to get back this time?”

“No, not this time.” The other replies softly, “This time, I hoped I would not return alone.”

Overhead, the stars begin to wander into view. Only the brightest are burning before the sun has fully left the sky, but even their brilliance, in this moment, Dongho humbly thinks, are nothing compared to the prince he turns to.

Are you sure, Dongho wants to ask. I don’t belong there, he could say.

But those would be fear and lies; the Prince’s hand is unwavering when he offers it to him, he’s sure; the water has always welcomed Dongho since he was a child, he belongs.

“..shall we?” The prince asks, his touch is warm as the summer sun on the sand when it brushes against Dongho’s fingertips.

“Can I return to shore?” Dongho takes a step. Slow. Easy.

“Do you want to, Dongho?”

Ahead, the ocean gurgles as though some private joke had been whispered between its waves. Dongho’s toes clutch at the curves of the cool stone underfoot. The crest of the sun is disappearing below the rippling horizon. It is almost time, and the hand in his own squeezes gently.

“Will you be here, if I do?”

“To see you?” The prince clarifies, then shakes his head. “..although I wish it.”

Dongho stands there, thinking, until the sun is gone and the cold seafoam rushing at his knees snaps him out of his reverie.

Then he turns to the golden prince beside him and together, hand in hand,

they return home.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to all!


End file.
